Ljubavi
by Pandorama
Summary: Luka, his daughter, and one of those moments that just gets you right there. Slightly AU, implications of Luby, but mostly just sentiment. Carbies need not call in the reinforcements just yet.


_Sort of AU, sort of abstract, always Luby despite a certain absence. But what can I say, I was inspired. Dedicated to Nina for help with my pitifully tiny Croatian vocabulary. Kindly R&R, and could somebody track down a couple of vegan Oreos for me?_

She was only gone a weekend, to Minnesota to see Maggie, and he hadn't thought twice. He'd actually encouraged it, pleased with the rare opportunity for her to spend that time with her mother she'd been denied as a child – the sane bonding time they'd never gotten. And it would give him the opportunity to spend time with the children, who always had that tendency to gravitate towards Abby first and foremost. He wasn't jealous, not really, rather found it more gratifying than anything to see the maternal side of her that had developed over the twelve years since their first daughter's birth. But he had been naively looking forward to the weekend with them all, planned out a list of things he wanted to do, eager to capitalize on the time they had alone. So he'd sent her off with a long, lingering kiss, and promised not to let the kids burn the place down in her absence. Kata had screamed for nearly an hour after her mother's departure, her rambunctious streak blatantly apparent as she wailed that now there would be nobody to make her the best macaroni and cheese, the only dish she ate willingly, and the only dish Luka seemed to be incapable of preparing properly. At six years old, Kata was viciously clingy and reserved her affection for her father only when it was least expected, such as halfway through his night shift the previous week when Abby had called to inform him that Kata refused to come out from her favorite cupboard under the sink until her Tata came home. Her dark, piercing eyes had a way of imploring unsuspecting strangers to the point that they'd gladly relinquish their entire life savings to her with only a single, pouty smile. Danijel preferred the persuasive track – using his expansive eight-year old mind to reason his point until the opponent surrendered out of sheer exhaustion. He could talk circles around the best, something that had once prompted Luka to ask whether he was perhaps Abby's secret lovechild with Morris. She'd reminded him, smirking, that it wasn't likely that she and Morris would produce such replica of Luka himself, tall and gangly with dark hair and sharp features and that nose that certainly hadn't come from anyone else. And then there was Anna. She'd made her way into their lives like some unearthly little fairy, tiny and delicate like her mother, brooding and soft-spoken like her father, neither expected nor understood at first, how the perfect, sweet little child could possibly be theirs, how should could possibly fill a void neither knew existed. Her presence had solidified everything in their lives, made them fall in love with one another all over again when they saw her, the tiny little being they'd created together. Where her sister was wild and her brother exhausting, she was a petite, dignified little lady, and had left them unprepared for the two tiny terrors that followed, not that they loved the younger children any less. Anna held her sister as their mother waved goodbye, whispered to her a few minutes, and calmed her as only she could. Barely twelve years old, and the most grounded thing in their cumulative bloodline. But it had been she who'd left her father at a loss that weekend, wishing Abby hadn't left him so utterly unprepared.

He'd been prodded awake by an overly attentive ear, always sensitive to the slightest noise given Kata's propensity toward creeping out of bed to make trouble at all hours and Danijel's propensity to wait until all was quiet to tiptoe to the hall closet to hunt for the secret stash of holiday gifts that accumulated from February until December. But this noise was neither, instead a soft, muffled noise that he recognized as crying, the sort of crying Abby had done in the first months of each pregnancy, quiet, secret crying. It could only be Anna, that much he knew. Kata would have been wailing, and Danijel would have been throwing things had it been either of them, but this was a dignified sort of cry learned from her mother. He padded to the door to knock softly, once, then twice. "Anna?"

Sniffles came from within. "I'm okay." Her mother said the same thing whenever he'd interrupt a secret cry.

"_Ljubavi_?" She had a way of listening when he spoke in Croatian, rather than English.

More sniffles. Her voice was quiet, sad, scared, reminding him that she was still a little girl, still needed him. "I need Mommy." She only called her that at her most vulnerable, usually referring to Abby by the Croatian familial.

Luka twisted the knob open, pushed in just enough to maintain both her privacy and his own overprotective sanity. "_Ljubavi_, are you –"

"I need her. Can you call her?" He could practically see the quiver of her lower lip, just as her mother tended towards at these times.

"She's sleeping…it's very late, _ljubavi_, just tell me what it is and I can help." His voice was soft, nearly crooning, lulling her into the embrace of his words.

"I'm bleeding. Down _there_."

He was utterly unprepared for the announcement. She was still so young, so tiny, how could she possibly be at that point? His throat felt dry, prickling sensations on the back of his neck making his hair stand on end. "You…bleeding?"

"Tata!" The high-pitched whine reminded him that she was even more uncomfortable than he was. "What do I do?" Panic laced her words.

All his years as a doctor left him unequipped for this particular situation…logically, he knew what to do, knew what to expect, yet the rush of overwhelmed emotion and mild shock clouded his mind. "Stay right there. I'll be back in a minute, _ljubavi_."

Sanitary napkins. He vaguely recalled a pink box of them from ages ago, some feminine emergency measure that Abby had ingrained in her. He had no idea where he'd seen the box, if it was even still wherever she'd stowed it. He checked the hallway closet first, rummaging through for anything that looked promising. A white box with red flowers was tucked in the back, which he seized and tore open. Tampons. Useless. He tossed them back behind the towels and shut the door. Under the sink in their bathroom, he knew there were a plethora of feminine items. He muttered a silent prayer as he knelt and peered into the abyss of perfumes and lotions and whatever else she's squirreled away in that cabinet, a soft breath of relief puffing from his lips as he removed the rose-colored box bearing a familiar logo.

He made his way back to the bathroom, dreading the inevitable acknowledgement and yet a swell of pride at the same time. "_Ljubavi_? Here. Can I come in?"

Shuffling within preceded the small affirmation, and he entered to find her with a towel draped over her lap, ever in need of her privacy, and a bewildered look on her face. "Did you call Mommy?"

He smiled and shook his head, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bathtub. "No. We can call her tomorrow, for now just trust me, okay?"

She nodded solemnly, gnawing at her thumbnail as he instructed her on how to line her underpants, pouring her a paper cup of water and doling out ibuprofen, turning his back obligingly as she carefully applied the cotton pad to her panties and redressed. "Okay. I'm done."

He turned, somehow expecting her to have grown in the time his back was turned into a replica of her mother, almost surprised to see the petite little girl in polka-dotted pajamas looking up expectantly at him. Two fingers stroked her dark locks, pushing them from where a long strand hid her left eye. "Come. Let's have ourselves a midnight snack, what do you say?"

She nodded and scampered after him to the darkened kitchen, hanging onto his forearm until he flicked on the overhead light. "You okay, _ljubavi_?"

A small nod and a little smile reassured him. "I think. We can still call in the morning?"

"Promise. First thing in the morning."

She nodded again. "Tata?"

"Mmm?"

She giggled softly. "You look more confused than me."

He smiled and bent to kiss her forehead. "Shush, little girl."

"I'm not a little girl anymore, Tata." Her dark eyes were piercing, though glittering with the same fire her mother had in the same chocolate orbs.

"I guess you're not." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You'll still always be my little girl."

She reached up a hand, little finger crooked at the end. "Pinkie swear it?"

"I do." He hooked his little finger through hers, smiling. "What do you think of cookies and milk?"

"I think only if we have the Oreos with the lots of frosting in them." She beamed at the rare allowance for junk food.

He gave her a wink and reached up to fumble on top of the refrigerator, his personal hiding place that his other half was unable to reach, let alone see, as far as he knew. He pulled the package of sugary chocolate cookies down and inspected the tray carefully. "Looks like Mommy found where I hid them, huh?" He pulled an overexaggerated frown and set the package on the counter before opening the door of the refrigerator to remove a carton of milk. His daughter sat at the table, eagerly kicking her legs back and forth from the chair, as he poured two large glasses of milk and brought them to the table. A ceremonial first cookie was removed, each gripping one half of the layered goodness. "Okay, twist." He feigned an attempt, after three children and a wife with a overactive sweet tooth, almost always capable of intentionally losing. His reward was a large, toothy grin as his eldest seized the thickly frosted half, giving a little squeal of delight as she dunked her prize and half her hand into the glass of milk and crammed the whole thing into her mouth. Another grin revealed chocolate-coated teeth as she giggled.

"You're always bad at that, Tata." She watched him meticulously coat his half in milk and take a bite, revealing his own chocolatey grin. "Gross!"

"You did the same to me, _ljubavi_." He reached across to muss her hair gently.

She sighed loudly and scowled. "But you're a Tata, you're supposed to be grown up and have _manners_." A pointed glare emphasized her point.

"I thought you said you're not a little girl anymore?" He raised his eyebrows at her and took another cookie from the package.

Her mouth formed a pout as she considered, arms crossed, gaze deliberate like her mother's. "Then I'm going to stay little some more. But you have to be a grown-up. Because I'll tell Mommy if you don't."

He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "I have a secret for you. Mommy _knows_ I'm not a real grown-up."

She giggled. "I have a secret, too."

"Oh?"

Dark curls bounced as she nodded. "Mommy told me to keep my eye on you this weekend and make sure you don't let Kata and Danijel talk you into anything."

"She did, did she?" He stood and began clearing the table, then moved to kiss the crown of her head. "Just for that, tomorrow we're going to buy a puppy."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up and she leaped up to hop around a bit.

He chuckled. "Nooo. Your sister and brother are enough trouble, we don't need any more." He pulled her in for a one-armed hug. "Come on, little girl. You need to get some sleep."

She frowned. "Nu-uh. I think now we should watch a movie." She fought back a yawn as she spoke, eyes already drooping.

"No, sleep. I need to go to bed myself, before your sister jumps on my head to wake me in the morning." A hand on her back guided her back to her room, waiting patiently as she arranged herself under the covers and gathered her stuffed animals into her arms.

"Now go to sleep, _ljubavi_." He kissed her forehead once more, nearly asleep already, before rising from the edge of her bed to head out into the darkened hallway. He lingered in the doorway, just out of sight, fighting back a wave of emotion that knotted in his throat. Inexplicably feelings…the inevitable memory of another little girl who would never see the same milestone…the overwhelming recollection of the first moment he saw those dark eyes, her mother's button nose, tufts of jet-black hair against porcelain skin…sticky toddler fingers wrapping around his larger ones as he delivered her to the door of the preschool, whimpering pitifully and clinging to his pantleg…the woman he loved more than anything he'd thought possible looking up at him in the winter cold and telling him she was pregnant, and the leap of his heart when she told him she wanted to do this, with him, to have this baby…planning a wedding more for her than themselves, too set on the idea of their precocious daughter giving her mother away to deny her the ruffled dress and flower crown she's pleaded for…sleepless nights with Kata and Danijel when the older child would follow them to the nursery and keep them both company…and the future, when he'd have to let her grow up, send her off to school, give her away at her own wedding. A tear slid down his cheek, still smiling, as he kissed two fingers and placed them on the little nameplate on her door. "I love you, _ljubavi_."


End file.
